Eclipsing Moon
by jyorraku
Summary: Subterfuge on high. Malcolm and Hoshi each makes a discovery that will change...just about everything.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Eclipsing Moon   
  
Author: Jyorraku   
  
Rating: R   
  
Category: Adventure, Drama   
  
Codes: R, S, All   
  
Summary: Subterfuge on high.   
  
Author Notes: Mara is a goddess! The English language can rest easy with her at its side.   
  
Eclipsing Moon   
  
They told him it would be easy and he believed them. After all, he had been in retirement for an entire two years and two months when they arrived on the doorstep of his apartment with the offer. They wouldn't have trusted a retiree with an assignment such as this if it required more finesse. And they wouldn't have approached him if they didn't think he would say yes.   
  
It would be something to keep him on his toes while servicing the agency. Why let his hard-earned skills go to waste at such a young age?   
  
Malcolm Reed, ever practical, had conceded the point. He had managed to look flattered when Captain Archer chose him as Enterprise's armory officer. The most difficult aspect of the mission, he had decided upon accepting the Archer's offer, would probably be trying to keep the good Captain from getting killed.   
  
However, as he stood hovering on the threshold of Hoshi Sato's cabin, he began to suspect that things were about to become much more complex. He supposed that it could also be just his nerves talking. His nerves indeed, he chided himself. Yes, he was getting old, but not too old for this game, if it must be played.   
  
The scanner indicated the resident of the room was not in. He had it on rather good authority from Travis that Hoshi was going to movie night today, since Liz Cutler had been given the honor of picking the feature, instead of a certain chief engineer. Travis said he and the regular movie-going men would go, since even chick flicks have good-looking chicks. The helmsman, however, did not ask the armory officer if he was planning to attend.   
  
Malcolm, upon returning to his quarters after dinner, thought about the obvious absence of the inquiry and pondered for a second or so whether his sexual orientation was being questioned. That was before he received the disquieting dispatch from Earth. The passive nature of the assignment was about to change. The fact that Hoshi would not be in her cabin was serendipity and he was frugal enough to not let it go to waste.   
  
With due haste, he punched in the key--not with his usual override, but with one he had planted into the system minutes before. Once used, it would re-scramble and be rendered useless, and of course, untraceable. He surmised his current unease was a manifestation of regret, of having to use these hide-and-cover tactics on his crewmates. However, it couldn't be helped. The gentle sound of the door sliding obediently open might have obscured his situation in benign circumstances, but he knew what he had in mind was hardly benevolent.   
  
The cabin was thankfully organized, as was her communications terminal. There was only one fault to a faultless display of order. It would be easy for an intruder, such as himself, to find what he was seeking. And it was ridiculously simple. An ad hoc algorithm had been used to encrypt a classified transmission to Starfleet Headquarters. The agency had not been able to decipher the contents, much to its collective dismay. He was to retrieve the code and piggyback the file on his next letters back home, just as he had been doing thus far. A few keystrokes on the console, and the file was copied on to the disk he had prepared. Having so effortlessly accomplished the mission, he gave the surrounding space another once over.   
  
The closet door was half open. Perusing the visible contents, he noted the Starfleet uniforms hanging on top, but soon found his sight drawn to a familiar blue article of clothing folded neatly at the bottom of the enclosure. He took a step forward before halting. Surely he didn't need the moniker of voyeur added to his repertoire.   
  
Faintly imbued with recrimination, he took it upon himself to exit the cabin immediately. Yet before he could completely remove himself, he heard a shuffling of feet from within. He spun toward the source, feeling his heart drumming rapidly to an old battle cry as an elixir of energy shot through his veins.   
  
* * *   
  
Hoshi heard her voice echo off the walls as she stepped out of the dense shadows. "It was you. You're the one that's been piggybacking messages back to Earth." She held in her hands, ironically, a short range signal scrambling prototype that he had successfully assembled two weeks ago.   
  
Her eyes were riveted to his, searching and questioning. He quickly glanced away, in a fashion that cried shameful culpability. Approaching until she was bathed in the same artificial light, she spoke with the odd intonation of a plea.   
  
"Why, Malcolm?"   
  
It was not the accusation he had expected. He bowed his head until she saw only the length of his fluttering lashes and the sharp crest of his countenance. "Hoshi, does the Captain know?" he asked, his voice coarse.   
  
Hoshi was quick to respond in the assuring negative, closing the distance between them once more. "I haven't told anyone else y--" She jerked to a stop, both in speech and motion, but the epiphany came too late.   
  
His right hand struck out before she was able to retreat, encasing her wrist in an steel vise. "That was a tactical error, Ensign," he said.   
  
Eyes wide with shock, Hoshi stood mesmerized by the ice blue surrounding his dark pupils, trying to find the familiar man. That thought was hastily abandoned when she found herself shaking. His fingers had tightened to a painful grip.   
  
"I'm sorry you won't be able to learn from it," he apologized with deceptive mildness.   
  
Rendered immobile by the unspoken meaning, she watched with burgeoning terror as his free hand extended to the control panel in the wall and tapped perfunctorily on the light switch. The thought to scream stumbled clumsily into her brain, but it was far too tardy in its arrival.   
  
As instructed, the room plunged into murky black, letting the sound of an aborted gasp fade into darkness. Only the firefly illumination of the stars outside was left to witness the aftermath in its perpetual silence. 


	2. Chap 2

Chapter Two  
  
Activity on the Enterprise was at a muted minimum as the final hours of Friday night approached. Malcolm willed his shoulders to relax and his stride to lengthen, although his thoughts were anything but synchronized with his attempted portrayal of ease. He was grateful for the deserted halls for he was quite sure he wasn't pulling off the peacetime demeanor.  
  
The lift doors opened, revealing the consequence of words spoken too soon.  
  
Travis--he thought it oddly comforting that he still thought of the helmsman by his first name--was standing in the lift, his hand unsuccessfully covering a wide yawn. Malcolm was immediately rewarded with Travis' trademark grin as his signs of fatigue fell away at the arrival of a new occupant in the lift.  
  
"Lieutenant, you should have been at the movie tonight!"   
  
"Oh?" The chick flick? Surely not, no matter how attractive the chicks.  
  
Travis laughed heartily at his skeptical expression. "I should have known Liz would choose something...unexpected. It was actually this sci-fi horror film about a bunch of people stuck together in this cube. They eventually figured out how to get out through some teamwork, but then they got to know each other a little too well, got paranoid, started killing each other. I didn't really get the ending though..."  
  
"Perhaps not the best choice for a movie on a starship," Malcolm said dryly, the tone he knew Travis had come to expect.  
  
"Well, there were a lot of creative booby traps I think you would have liked. One of the characters in there reminded me of Hoshi."  
  
Malcolm idly wondered if that character had survived.  
  
"Actually, that character died, so maybe it was better Hoshi was with you instead," he added.  
  
The lieutenant felt himself tense, his fingers curling slowly inward. He turned his neck mechanically, his unblinking eyes landing on the young man's guileless visage. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
Travis tilting his head curiously, and supplied his rationale. "Hoshi told me you probably wouldn't be going because she'd just given you translated weapon specs from our encounter with the Hexians. She didn't show up at the movie either, so I assumed you guys were working together."  
  
The lift stopped, with Travis' unspoken inquiry still hovering, and the door opened, waiting for Malcolm to depart. Words were not coming easily with his heart still thumping in his eardrums, so as he stepped off, he could only offer a meager, 'I think she probably just went to sleep, Ensign.'  
  
He didn't bother to see how Travis took that, barely registering as the lift closed and took off again. The immediate concern was whether Hoshi had spoken the truth when she said she hadn't told anyone about his clandestine activities. She'd given him the Hexian specs two days ago, he wouldn't have been occupied with it today. She lied, which left the question of why.  
  
The fact that he made it safely to his cabin gave him some small comfort, but the flashing light of his terminal made him pause. The ubiquitous lump in his throat grew impossibly bigger as he approached the desk.  
  
It was only a few seconds older than the agency's missive, but he had been otherwise occupied with his plans. The header indicated it came from within the ship, and he held his breath as he pressed the button to open it.  
  
~Malcolm,   
  
I am writing this message to you, and only you, on a need-to-know basis. I've recently discovered some suspicious communiques that were being sent to Earth along with our official reports. I've yet to decode the contents, so I haven't notified the Captain of their existence. They might turn out to be as innocent as T'Pol's letters from her family, but in case they aren't, I've devised a plan. Attached are the files in question and the subroutines involved. They might take some time to digest, but I'm sure you, of all people, will find them more interesting than Liz's movie selection.  
  
Hoshi.~  
  
She had a recourse after all: him. She did not consider his defection a possibility. It was all together an unhappy coincidence he was the very person she was trying to disclose.  
  
Malcolm thought of the way he'd left her in her cabin and the actions he took to accomplish that task. He swallowed the bitter taste of regret, heavily smothered as it blossomed within his torso. Drowning in the icy depths of the Atlantic, he lamented, would have been more pleasant. 


	3. Chap 3

Chapter Three  
  
Morning came without the appearance of proper celestial bodies, but the slight buzzing of shuffling feet and rustling uniforms announced the arrival of another day. The personnel of the alpha shift took their positions throughout the ship, some absentmindedly touching the components of their stations as if to announce their return to the inanimate objects. Whatever it was, when the rituals of exchange were complete, the crew and the ship would settle back into a contented hum of a new day.  
  
Events were proceeding somewhat differently on the bridge. Captain Archer sat perched on his command chair, periodically glancing over at the empty comm station. He didn't know how much time passed before he heard T'Pol.  
  
"Captain, Ensign Sato is not responding to her comm."  
  
He frowned, feeling the lines of his face congregate. He didn't bother to ask her why she tried to contact Hoshi. Vulcans do not worry. Vulcans, however, do get concerned. And Hoshi was thirty minutes late. That, he gathered, was the reason for concern.   
  
Since Hoshi had not been recruited through the proper Starfleet channels, she'd been extra careful to follow protocol--breaking it, Archer thought in bemusement, only when she knew he would give in, as he'd done several times. 'But surely not when it counted,' he reasoned with chagrin.  
  
For a rather quick two seconds, he thought about what he'd say if Hoshi walked off the bridge lift right then. Admonishment? But she would almost certainly feel it in herself. A soft reproach? Yes, that was the good way to go about it. Then it hit him. A captain's intuition? He wasn't sure, but he knew as he rubbed his thumb into the small dent on the arm of his chair.  
  
Something about this was different.   
  
The ambient lights around him glowed with shuttered menace.  
  
Archer turned to his armory officer. The man was spit, shined, and polished as always, but his head snapped up at a rather startling velocity as Archer's gaze settled on him. Was Malcolm worried too? That did not bode well.  
  
Nodding, Archer spoke nary a word, but Malcolm was already halfway up his seat, a phase pistol in hand. A bit severe maybe, for something that could turn out to be just a tardy officer, but Archer had long ago learned Malcolm took the words 'better safe than sorry' very seriously.  
  
Malcolm left, leaving his seat in the same condition as Hoshi's. The wings were now vacant. Archer vaguely registered himself being oddly discomposed. He attempted to ease back into his chair, but found his back unwilling to cooperate. It remained straight and unyielding, bracing instinctively against the assault of an invisible foe. But there was nothing here. The starscape in front of him was empty. Nothing.  
  
'Better safe than sorry'. The phrase stewed in the muddy waters of his subconscious, it bubbled and simmered against the necessity for further action.  
  
"Bridge to Sickbay." He felt T'Pol's logical eyes on him. His tongue was thick with indecision.  
  
"Phlox here. What can I do for you, Captain?"  
  
The beat of his heart was slow and steady. Eye of the storm, he mused.   
  
Silence was deceptive there.   
  
Archer rose to his feet, standing over the half-empty bridge. He allowed himself a small smile before replying.  
  
"Ensign Sato might be injured, please report to her quarters," he paused, and heard himself speak again, "Lieutenant Reed is on his way." 


	4. Chap 4

Chapter Four  
  
For the second time in the last twenty four hours, Malcolm stood in front of Hoshi's quarters. He could not help but marvel slightly at the difference 'official capacity' made--converting his actions right and justified. The pressure of titanium against his hand was comforting, and everything felt distinctively different from last night. He pondered the existential disparity. Was he the same person he was last night? Would he do it all over again as Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, armory officer?  
  
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of Starfleet would not be thinking these thoughts. He would be worried about his fellow bridge officer and friend, thinking of the worst possible scenario, thinking of silent deaths and broken bodies...thinking of everything Agent Malcolm Reed had seen. They were thoughts of one man and yet he felt righteous in his current role. He shouldn't, he owed Hoshi that much, the acceptance of what he had done as an agent. It should taint him in all his roles, he should endure the rage of the Lieutenant against the Agent, but the Agent would remind him again that the Lieutenant was a fraud, a secondary role played only for the necessity of the first.  
  
His fingers pressed the keypad with familiarity as Malcolm valiantly ignored the chaotic ramblings of his mind. The physical motions would always remain the same. Concisely programmed in the spine, they were reflexive, like instinct.  
  
The door opened under his instruction. The shadows within shivered, retreating from the corridor lights that framed his silhouette. Once the door closed, twilight returned, and the obfuscated figures were once more dancing in the dim of starlight. He faltered at the switch, intercepting the automatic motion of his hand. A deluge of emotion overtook him; he wanted to think it wasn't fear.  
  
*Some things are better left in the dark.*  
  
The thought was almost desperate.  
  
'Don't be ridiculous,' he reprimanded himself. Yet there it was, the hesitance. He could not bring himself to do it, to cast into light what he had done. It was completely absurd. The deed was done, there was nothing he could do now to stop what was to come. Had his retirement from the agency degenerated him into an ineffectual fool?  
  
*Do it. See what you have done. See what has been done. See what is left. See who you really are.*  
  
What did it matter? Why did it matter? It never used to before--  
  
Malcolm stopped himself. These feelings were there and they weren't going away; therefore, he had adapt. To ignore them would be detrimental to his mission--missions. Regret. He felt regret for his actions, however justified.  
  
"Hoshi," he murmured, remembering her smile. Finally, he had a name for his sorrow.  
  
The lights flickered on.  
  
She lay on the bed, and a quick survey told him she was exactly as he'd left her. He padded quietly over and lowered himself until his weight rested on the balls of his feet, his heels scarcely touching the soft carpeted floor.  
  
Her head had lolled over the edge of her bunk, veiled by a mourning black mass of hair.  
  
Malcolm found himself inclining his head until there was nothing but the utility gray of the floor in his line of vision--not the prone body of his crewmate. This was new, but he went along, leaving the game behind him, setting his mind free, if only for a second.  
  
"Hoshi, I'm sor--" He paused before continuing. Then he decided not to continue at all.  
  
An apology would be vulgar. Nothing he could offer now would be of consequence. His self-imposed angst was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Hoshi wouldn't care that he was being discomforted by his newly-discovered guilt complex. He should really get on with things.  
  
He must.  
  
Brushing aside the rogue strands, he exposed her slender neck. It looked as delicate as the rest of her, the bones remarkably easy to break and the flesh susceptible to bruises--characteristics of easy prey. Disabling her had been almost effortless. He prepared himself to perform an even more simple task, to add a resolution to this turn of events. He touched the cooled skin under her curved jaw, perfunctorily pressing his hand to the vessels underneath.  
  
When Malcolm moved his hand away, a pair of pitch-black eyes stared up at him. 


	5. Chap 5

Chapter Five  
  
The placard said Surgical Office. The opaque gray doors were otherwise non-descriptive against the unmarked length of the walls.  
  
Malcolm pressed his thumb over the data-pad next to the door frame, which caused the door opened, revealingl a pristine white room with a reclining chair placed in the middle.  
  
Another door on the opposing wall soon revealed a middle-aged man dressed in the same clinical white, pushing a cart forward next to the chair. He, like the room, was unremarkable but for the practiced ease in his movements.  
  
"Agent Reed, please sit down and we'll begin the procedure as soon as the anesthetic sets in." The man, his coat said Doctor Castor, waited with a hypospray in hand, but making no move to approach him, his stillness indicating to Malcolm that he had done the procedure many times and had become aware of the agents' reluctance to let their guard down. It was a job hazard that had kept Malcolm alive more times than he could count. He had to take the initiative and let the doctor into his space.  
  
"I'm here for the standard issue implant," Malcolm said, walking toward the chair. He was not familiar with the procedure, which was instituted this after his retirement.   
  
"Yes." The doctor agreed with a cursory smile. "We don't get many senior agents for those these days."  
  
After a moment's pause, Malcolm sat. The position made him more vulnerable than he would have liked, but he managed not to jump when the anesthetic was injected.  
  
"Perhaps you could fill me in..." His speech slurred as he envisioned his lips going slack. He gripped the cold handles of the seat and found a small comfort in the cool sensation.  
  
Castor complied with the enthusiasm of an automaton. "This is an oral implant of a neurotoxin designed to cause acute incurable encephalitis, in most cases people will become comatose within five hours. You are, of course, immunized against it, as all the agents are."  
  
The laser scalpel in the man's hand started with a pestilent whine. It hissed as it sliced through his left cheek, relegating it to two yawning flaps of skin. Watching with what his peripheral vision would allow, Malcolm followed the procedure with morbid fascination, feeling nothing as the doctor inserted the small capsule into the raw flesh. It was an interesting sensation, being disassociated from his own body.  
  
"You'll only need to bite on your cheek," Castor continued dispassionately as he began to suture, "to break the capsule. The appropriate amount of toxin will be released each time you do it. The capsule has been designed to integrate with your own body's coagulation cascade reactions to self heal after each release. The toxin itself is permeable through the skin, although in this case, the quickest route of administration is through sub-lingual absorption. The details of this technique are in the main data-frame."  
  
The suturing instrument finished with an audible snap. Castor took a deliberate step away and it was all Malcolm needed to know the operation was complete.  
  
"Lots of trouble," Malcolm murmured, flexing his jaw a bit, though he still couldn't feel much. He knew enough not to touch the healing skin.  
  
Wheeling the cart back to the room beyond, Castor didn't bother turning around as his disembodied voice echoed from the walls.   
  
"Studies have shown that sudden death tends to arouse suspicion, whereas if the mark were diseased before death, there are fewer inquires as to what happened."  
  
The door closed, leaving Malcolm alone once more. The encounter was unreal, if not for the fact that he still had no control over his face. His skin, however, prickled underneath his clothes. He realized suddenly, the room was rather chilly. 


	6. Chap 6

Chapter Six

Memories clawed through her foggy brain, bringing with them the sharp recollection of jabbing pain. She remembered seeing the colors of the world fade into a pinpoint until there was nothing but a deep well of blackness. Yet, in the murky borders of her consciousness, she was aware of the sound of someone's breath, coming to a strangled halt as her lips touched the lips of another. Then there was nothing. Nothing until the pinpoint reappeared, expanding into the dimmed panorama of her room.

Hoshi was awake. Her heart rioted as she realized the hands around her neck were the same ones that had rendered her unconscious. How he could have not heard the clamoring within her ribs, she didn't know. As it turned out she didn't have much time to think about it.

The fingers drew away, but his eyes locked upon her open ones with astonishment.

Without another moment's hesitation, she rammed her angled elbow into his left temple. He was caught off guard, it was obvious from the rough tumble he took. Nonetheless, he was already up on his feet before Hoshi could leap away from the bed. Her defensive position didn't matter, she mused grimly, not when she was pointing his phase pistol at him.

"Give me one reason not to blow your head off!" Her entire body was shaking, down to the tips of her hair, but her voice was vehemently steady.

She might as well have been threatening him with a spatula. He was utterly unaffected by her declaration. "Ensign, I suggest you put your weapon down."

An aborted laugh escaped from her lips. She struggled to breathe deeply, feeling the force of hysteria hammering in her throat. Still, she managed a rebellious, "Or what, Lieutenant?"

The doorbell chose that moment to chime, her untrained reaction giving Malcolm the opportunity. He leapt at her, and before her finger could make contact with the trigger, she was already flat on her back, her empty hand cooling with sweat.

The chime echoed again. He didn't lower the weapon that was now pointed at her.

"Ensign Sato?"

It was Phlox. There was a calculating element in Malcolm's silence, and for some reason, Hoshi felt the presence of Phlox wasn't the part of the equation Malcolm was trying to solve.

"Lieutenant Reed?"

Hoshi felt her lips curve with a quiver--Phlox knew that Malcolm was in here with her. The feeling of safety was fleeting as Malcolm finally came into action and yanked her out of bed, tossing her against the wall. The possibility that Phlox might not be much of a deterrent to Malcolm's malignant plans sent her on a blind rampage as he closed in on her.

She struggled helplessly as Malcolm disabled her body from further movements. Her eyes bored straight into the space ahead as he leaned in.

"Thirty-one," he mouthed against the shell of her ear.

She froze, the previous frenzied kinetics halting like flesh against brick.

Then he stepped away from her to open the door for Phlox.

"Dr. Phlox, I think Ensign Sato might need your assistance." Malcolm gestured at Hoshi's disheveled form. He pivoted slowly as the physician approached her, positioning himself behind Phlox.

He remained standing behind them, regarding her with an icy gaze. His index finger lingered on the trigger, undoubtedly heating the cool metal. His hand was a fist around the deadly weapon, and though his arm remained down and flat against his torso, she knew she wouldn't be able to do very much if he did raise the arm with the intention to kill. And all that stopped him from doing so was her confirmation. He was waiting. Hoshi didn't doubt he would kill Phlox and her if it came to that.

She placed her right hand on the floor and tapped out her designation in Morse, giving him the confirmation he needed. In her mind, she saw the sequence and hoped she didn't fuck up the ridiculously simple code that she'd mastered at the tender age of two.

He raised his arm to level the pistol at them.

Wrong, wrong, she'd done it wrong, fourteen wasn't even prime. Surely he couldn't expect perfection from someone who'd been unconscious just a minute ago. The barrel of his weapon said otherwise.

"Thirteen," she blurted out.

The grip relaxed.

The Denobulan pouted in confusion. One could always tell his emotions by the shape of his mouth. "I beg your pardon, Ensign?"

"Thirsty, I'm thirsty."

Phlox tilted his head curiously at the linguist's proposed slip but conceded.

"Yes, you're mildly dehydrated. Perhaps Lieutenant Reed would be kind enough to get you some water?"

Hoshi didn't think kindness was on his agenda at the moment.

"Of course." Malcolm walked over to her desk. Her eyes trailed his movements, but could not see through his back as he poured. Her heart drummed along with his footsteps as he approached them.

"Is she well, Doctor?" he asked the physician, paying her no mind as he dropped off the glass in the general direction of her hands.

She regarded the water with wariness, but reached out in time to prevent it from falling onto the tangled sheets.

"It seems there's some slight swelling in the prefrontal cortex, but nothing serious. I believe it's returning to normal as we speak."

The medical scanner came to a stop above the rim of her drink, throwing the austere blue light into the liquid. The glass was still untouched. The curious sliver glint in the eyes of the alien doctor returned in full force.

The crooked curve of Malcolm lips told her he was amused by her hesitance.

Fueled by indignation, Hoshi took a giant swallow, turning to give the lieutenant the nastiest look she could manage. But his cool eyes were already riveted on hers as she lowered the glass. She managed not to choke.

His expression remained neutral, but she heard the smile in his voice. "Were you attacked, Hoshi?"

"No, I had a nightmare. I think I tripped over my sheets and hit my head, that's all," she replied stiffly, glaring pointedly at the armory officer. "I'm sorry to have caused such a panic."

"No panic. The captain was merely concerned when you were late for duty. Doctor, if there's nothing else..." The tone of his accented nonchalance grated and she had a feeling he knew it would.

"You may return to the bridge, Lieutenant, I can handle things from here."

"Doctor." Malcolm nodded deference before stepping out of the room.

Hoshi tuned out Phlox's chatter as he administered something into her neck. She thought she had escaped the agency's constant control and manipulation. Their threats of exposing her had faded with her tenure on the Enterprise, and she could even pretend that her duties to the agency were just something extra she did for Starfleet. But now another one of them was here. She glanced at the phase pistol he had quietly left on her table, the titanium glinting in the artificial light.

Malcolm Reed was a dangerous man.


	7. Chap 7

Chapter Seven

"Congratulations, Alex."

The lanky man garbed in dark blue ceremonial robes turned to face the similarly dressed woman. The only difference in their garments was that opulent gold sash that decorated his robe.

"Thank you, Hoshi," Alex said with forced cheer. He lowered his gaze and chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip before speaking again. "This should have been yours, Hoshi," he whispered, fingering the gold material.

Frustration buzzed violently between her temples. All day long that was what people had been telling her. Her supposed 'genius' was renowned and the fact that she came in second, well, that could only have been attributed to her brother's illness. They looked upon her with pity and it riled her. So she came in second, she didn't understand what was so god damn awful about being second best. She had to restrain herself from throttling all of them, but that restraint was wearing thinner than the fabric of her mother's old couch. It would, however, have been bad form for her to strangle Alex. So she responded as she had to the others.

"I gave it my best and you sure as hell gave it yours. And that's why that decoration is on your robe and not mine."

The silly man opened his mouth to speak again. Probably with something more humble and self-deprecating.

"Alex. Don't force me to give you another compliment, okay?"

The gaping mouth shut immediately, much to her satisfaction and relief.

"Good. Now give me a hug."

His smile was genuine that time. And as his arms tightened affectionately around her, Hoshi mused that she could have lost to someone a whole lot worse than Alex.

Unfortunately, now that the reception was in full swing, her youth made it easy to single her out, and she felt stifled by the crowd's pity. Finally, Hoshi excused herself from the ordeal, catching the lingering look of concern on Alex's face. But she couldn't dwell on it much further. Her degree gave her much more freedom than she had as a student, and that was the important thing. She wanted to be close to Ryuji and give him whatever support she could to help him conquer the mysterious disease that had plagued him for over these few months. Linguistics took a backseat to family.

"Frankly, I don't understand it. One day he's unable to get out of bed, and the next he's as healthy as the next man. In any case, we'd like to observe him for two more days..."

The voice of the perplexed doctor droned on in the background, but all Hoshi could see and hear was Ryuji.

"I can't believe it, Hoshi. Yesterday I felt like I was going to cough up my lungs. Today..." he gestured with great comedic animation. His attempt to lighten the mood was ineffective, as eivdenced by the non-existent smile on Hoshi's face. "Hey, you're not going to cry, are you?"

Hoshi shook her head mutedly, miraculously holding in the tears that threatened to tumble down her cheeks.

"Good, very good," Ryuji replied with great caution. Hoshi frowned, trying to convince him that comedy wasn't the way to go. He blinked slowly, as if sudden movement would trigger a flood of tears. "Um....Hug?"

With a ghost of a smile, Hoshi gingerly hugged him, squeezing tighter only when she felt the strength of his arms around her. "I'm so happy," she said softly, silent tears finally trickling down her cheeks.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'm still going to be here to threaten every guy you date. What are big brothers for?"

Lips trembling, Hoshi tried in vain to stop the tears. "I just thought when they called me after the reception, I..."

"Hoshi. Dad told me what happened at your school. I'm sorry, it's all my fault..."

"Ryuji, please don't," Hoshi turned away, she couldn't bear to see him blame himself, couldn't bear to hear the same thing over again.

"I--" He was interrupted from saying more when the door opened again.

"Ryuji, how're you feeling?" The doctor entered the room with their parents.

"Ryuji, you had us so worried..."

"Son, you gave us quite a scare..."

Hoshi watched as they fussed over Ryuji, but when he caught her eye, his guilt was still there.

"I'm...going to get something to drink," she muttered before exiting the room. Once out, she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and willing the noise around her to disappear. They didn't understand, it wasn't Ryuji, it was her. She'd done her very best, and the work was easy for her. But apparently she was wrong. It was her fault, Ryuji--

"Had nothing to do with your failure."

She hurled around to see a man standing beside her. He was even more nondescript than Ryuji's Doctor Castor. What had he said? It was a rare occasion that she doubted her own ears.

"Pardon?"

"Allow me to introduce myself, Ms. Sato. I'm Damien Sloan," he said, handing her a card. Hoshi, puzzled, read the card. It had nothing but a row of numbers from one to thirty-one, with the number thirteen circled.

"I don't understand."

"Perhaps we should go outside, Ms. Sato. I have a proposition for you."

Hoshi frowned, unable to digest the strange man's words. "I'm sorry, I'm not interested."

"I will explain everything. Including your brother's mysterious illness."

The bait had been thrown. Sloan bowed slightly at the waist and walked away.

"How did you--Wait!"

The usually crowded patio was eerily empty when Hoshi caught up with Sloan. Wary, she hesitated. Though the sun was shinning brightly above them, basking her in light and warmth, she couldn't help but feel an icy sense of foreboding darkness permeating through her.

Sloan lazily gestured for her to sit. He took no other action. Like a predator lying in wait, he was patient and still, watching Hoshi approach.

The air was thick, and her eyes stung from her unblinking vigilance as she neared him. Every fiber of her being told her to stay away, but it was impossible for Hoshi to ignore him when it concerned Ryuji.

She sat with her back straight and ready, perched for escape. "What do you know?"

He smiled indulgently, "What don't I know?" Leaning forward, he began, "I belong to a covert organization called Primes that gathers intelligence from Starfleet. My section, thirteen, is cryptography and communications. And we're very interested in recruiting you."

"I've never heard of this Primes. And I'm not interested." Hoshi's head ached. "You said something about my brother." That was the only thing that concerned her.

"Primes is...not an publicly recognized organization. There are some things that can't be done through official channels, we are there to assist Starfleet when its hands are tied. We both work toward the same goals, the betterment of human kind."

Sighing impatiently, Hoshi exclaimed, "It sounds to me that Primes is rather presumptuous in its goals when it can't be held publically accountable for anything. And I don't care about any of this, what do you know about my brother?"

Something in Sloan's eyes hardened, and suddenly, she knew that she had thrown away her safety net. The viper was about to strike.

"I know plenty. I know that language comes to you as naturally as breathing. I know you should have been first in your class. I know why you weren't, and it wasn't because of your brother. I also know why your brother was sick."

Her knuckles had turned white in her lap. Something was very wrong.

"Your work was doctored. Your brother was deliberately infected with a virus. Because I ordered it. It's just a taste of what we're capable of."

Hoshi tore away from her seat, stepping crookedly away as her breath labored with fear.

"Who are you?"

"Sit down. I'm not finished." His tone ordered compliance.

Trembling, she sat. "There's more?"

Sloan chuckled. It was a terrible sound. "You were genetically modified to be a language prodigy--unfortunately the public frowns upon that. There's a Eugenics Act I'm sure you are aware of. They confine and sterilize individuals who have been indicted for genetic manipulation. By all accounts you should be institutionalized, not acclaimed."

Her thesis, her work, the final exams. Though her thoughts were on Ryuji, they seemed like something she could have done perfectly. Language came almost automatically to her. Frankly, it didn't require much thought on her part at all. It was instinct. But after the initial surprise when Alex was named first in their class, she really hadn't given it much thought. Maybe instincts could go wrong when emotions were involved. Now, however, the stranger had exposed the nagging feeling that sat in the darkest corner of her mind.

"I don't believe you," she bluffed, though her heart was tripping readily at his words. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Sloan deposited a vial on the table before leaning back, a portrait of ease. "This contains the anti-viral agent used to cure your brother. You can go have it tested if you wish. As for approaching you now... Our genetic experimentations have not aways been successful. People sometimes turn out exactly as the public feared, unstable, uncontrollable...a waste. You, on the other hand, are a success. We want people like you to assist us in acquiring delicate information."

She didn't care what information they wanted. "What if I refuse?" Thankfully her voice was steady.

"We'll just have to turn you in to the authorities. Your family will be degraced as the perpetuators, and you'll be seen as nothing but a fraud with an unnatural advantage. Everything you've worked for, every award, every credential, all for nothing. You'd also be locked away in a place where...the silence is often deafening."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Hoshi found this all too horrific. She wasn't a prodigy. She was made to be good, made to turn out this way. But she remembered working for those awards, working into the night when other children were having fun at birthday parties. Even with her gift, the accolades weren't something she had taken for granted. Now this man was telling her it was all part of the plan, that she had been made to be this way.

"Hoshi, may I call you Hoshi? We're not evil by any means. We're just very cautious about contingency plans when it comes to our organization. In fact, we could take you places you could have never imagined."

"What do I have to do?" she asked softly.

Sloan smiled. "There is a warp five starship in the works. You'll be on it as a Starfleet communications officer. You'll send us all forms of communications to and from the ship. And install our algorithms in the communications arrays."

"That's it?" It sounded too simple. "What about after the mission?"

"It's an important mission. Afterwards, if all goes successfully, you will no longer be obligated to us. However, some of our agents find their jobs rewarding in uncovering the issues that would have never been brought to light...You look unconvinced. You have my word, that if you choose to leave the Primes then, we won't expose you, unless you threaten us with exposure as well."

"You won't hurt my family."

He sat back in his chair. "Rest assured, we're very big on individual responsibilities and investments. That was just for show."

For show. To prove that he could do those things. To display his power over her.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" she asked, her bloodless hands white from tension.

He picked the invisible lint off his jacket before regarding her with his flat gaze. "No, you don't." Rising from the chair, Sloan took in her despondent demeanor with satisfied smile of a well-fed snake. "I will be contacting you shortly."

Hoshi tried to suppress the shudder that went through her. But she didn't want him to leave thinking that this was all there was to Hoshi Sato.

"Sloan," she called out to his back.

He faced her, arrogantly expectant.

Her face twisted with derision. "Is there anything that you can't do?" she mockingly asked.

Sloan seemed to contemplate her question. He looked past her, out toward the horizon, made bloody by the setting sun.

Finally, he answered gravely, "See the future."


End file.
